Last year it was standing in the yard. Came the wind and down it came. Rounds became a day’s labor to move from the yard to the deck below the stairs. A year goes by and I find myself axe in hand, older and less sure of the stroke, back and legs less fit after a tough time with surgery and motivation. A slow start but after a couple of hours on a couple of days the stroke and the confidence comes back. It takes longer than when I was younger, but it gets done; the feeling of being in the world is the same, perhaps more poignant for the effort involved in the getting here. Wood for the winter, picture for the day in the future when it might be that the next generation does the wood while I put the water on to boil for tea on a cold winter ‘s day.
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